Free A Plain Man by Mary Ellis

Don’t you remember him from the Wilmot project?”
    Pete also scrambled up and stretched out his hand. “How do you do, sir? I’m very pleased to see you again.”
    Perhaps it was due to Taylor’s formal and respectful tone and choice of words, but Eli’s frown softened. “Thank you, young man. I trust you’ve been well.” He shook Pete’s hand briefly.
    â€œVery well, thank you. May I present my fiancée, Michelle Moore. We’re to be married in May, unless she comes to her senses.” Pete laughed wholeheartedly, while Eli blinked like an owl.
    Michelle jumped up and practically sprinted around the table.
    Please, God, don’t let her throw her arms around my father’s neck. The prayer flitted through Caleb’s mind in an instant. Even after five years, he still didn’t understand Englisch forwardness or publicdemonstrations of affection. But thankfully, Michelle stopped short in front of Eli and kept her arms at her side. “I have wanted to visit Pete’s Amish friends for months. You have such a super home. I want to live in a big house like this someday, but maybe one a little closer to civilization, and not set so far back from the road. Passersby can barely see it. And was that a pig I spotted next to your barn? Do you own a real pig? It’s so huge compared to those potbellied mini ones.” She grinned as though pleased with herself.
    Eli was utterly flabbergasted. “Yes, the pig is real.”
    â€œWhy don’t we have some lunch?” Caleb broke his father’s inertia. “I know Mamm left a plate of sandwiches. Why don’t I get a jar of peaches from the pantry?”
    â€œLunch in a real Amish kitchen? Wait until I tell my friends at work. They’ll be so jealous.” Michelle returned to her seat next to her intended spouse.
    Eli shook off his trance and began to wash at the sink. “Yes, lunch is a good idea. Then I’ll need your help this afternoon in the fields, Caleb.”
    â€œI would love to pitch in too, Mr. Beachy,” said Pete. “I’m fascinated with farming. What are you planting—wheat, hay, oats? Maybe soybeans? Alfalfa? Barley?”
    When it became apparent that Pete’s guessing would continue until he exhausted the name of every grain and vegetable, Caleb intervened. “We need to plant seed corn—both sweet and field.”
    â€œI should have known.” Pete slapped his forehead with a palm. “Good cash crop, right?”
    â€œThe market fluctuates, but right now it’s not too bad.” Caleb fought back a grin. Pete hadn’t known the difference between beets, turnips, or kohlrabi during their trip to an open-air market and had shown no interest in learning. “These sandwiches appear to be ham and Swiss cheese on rye with tomato—everybody okay with that?” He set the plate down on the table, along with jars of mustard and mayo.
    â€œKnowing your mamm , there should be enough.” Eli murmured, carrying over plates, napkins, and forks.
    Pete placed a sandwich on both his and Michelle’s plates. “We’re fine with these, thanks.”
    â€œBut they’re ham!” Michelle gasped, pressing a palm to her chest. “I surely hope this isn’t that pig’s sister or brother.”
    Eli settled himself at the head of the table before answering his female guest. “Worry not; this particular hog was a total stranger to us.” He fluffed his napkin over his lap.
    â€œOh, thank goodness.” She bit into her sandwich with zeal. After Caleb spooned peaches into small bowls, Michelle’s admiration rose to a new height. She forked one peach half and held it aloft. “Did your wife actually can these from your own peach trees, Mr. Beachy?”
    â€œOf course she did.” Eli began eating as though late for an appointment.
    â€œThen she should put those little doily-hats over the jar lids